


Magic, My Dear

by asideofourown



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Historical References, M/M, Pet Names, Pre-Canon, snapshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asideofourown/pseuds/asideofourown
Summary: The thing was, Aziraphale could dorealmagic.  The kind with miracles, and flying, and making things actually disappear.So Crowley didn’t understand why the angel insisted on showing off his parlor tricks and frankly embarrassing sleight of hand every time he found a spare coin in his pocket.





	Magic, My Dear

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting for this fandom, so hopefully I'm not stepping on any toes. Apologies in advance if I've messed up any Britishisms. 
> 
> I just.... love the idea of Aziraphale, bona fide magical angel of Heaven, being so delighted by magic tricks. 
> 
> Probably goes without saying, but I don't own Good Omens. Enjoy!

The thing was, Aziraphale could do _real_ magic.The kind with miracles, and flying, and making things _actually_ disappear.

So Crowley didn’t understand why the angel insisted on showing off his parlor tricks and frankly embarrassing sleight of hand every time he found a spare coin in his pocket.

“Crowley, pay attention,” Aziraphale said with what might have been described as a pout if it hadn’t been on the face of an angel of the Lord.

“I am paying attention,” Crowley drawled, taking a long sip of his drink and staring up at the low ceiling.They were seated together in the back of a dim, crowded pub, which wasn’t the best venue for magic tricks even if Crowley had been the avid audience Aziraphale probably wished for.

“Is this your card, then?” Aziraphale asked, pushing a ragged playing card across the table.

Crowley glanced down at the nine of hearts resting between them.His card had been a six of spades.“It is my card, I don’t know how you’ve done it,” he said flatly, and then glared into his drink.The stale, sour beer changed accommodatingly into a well-aged wine.

Aziraphale squinted suspiciously at him even as three more playing cards fell out of his sleeves.“Was it,” he said, doubtful.

Crowley raised an eyebrow.“Would I lie to you?” he asked.

Aziraphale made a face at him, the _Of course, you’re a demon, that’s in your job description_ unspoken between them.

Crowley sighed heavily, scratching at his cheek under his dark glasses and studying Aziraphale.“Listen, angel,” he said, “Why don’t you just use actual magic if you’re so intent on being a convincing magician or whatever?Pop in a real miracle or two, you’d be much better than the illusionists running around pretending to read minds and locking themselves in handcuffs.”

Aziraphale looked appalled.“That’s not very sporting!” he exclaimed.“The _point_ is that the sleight of hand is supposed to _look_ like magic!Using real magic takes away all the fun!”

“Fun for who, though,” Crowley muttered into the bowels of his wine glass.

Aziraphale smiled a little wryly.“Besides, I don’t think… well, I don’t think Upstairs would much like it,” he admitted sheepishly.“No superfluous miracles, and all that.”

“Mm,” Crowley murmured.“I suppose that’s true, I can’t imagine Heaven would much appreciate your little show.That lot has no time for fun.”

Aziraphale hummed in a way that implied he didn’t entirely disagree, and then he started.“You just called it fun!”

Crowley winced.“I suppose anything Upstairs wouldn’t like must be at least a little fun,” he muttered grudgingly.

Aziraphale beamed at him.“Wonderful,” he said, clearly tickled, and Crowley couldn’t shake the feeling that he had somehow been thwarted.“I do believe you have something behind your ear, Crowley,” Aziraphale said.He reached over and kind of wiggled his fingers in the vicinity of Crowley’s left ear, and then pulled his hand away with a shilling pinched between his fingers.“Magic,” he said with a pleased smile.

Crowley clapped slowly.“Where are you learning these tricks, anyway?” he asked, changing the subject in the hopes that Aziraphale wouldn’t try to pull a bunny from behind his ear next.

Aziraphale smiled, absently shuffling his cards.“Oh, there’s a wonderful magician who’s been teaching me,” he said.“His name is John, he stops by the bookshop sometimes.I’ll introduce you, if you’d like.”He smiled innocently.“Maybe you could pick up a trick or two as well.”

Crowley drained the rest of his drink in a mouthful.“Unlikely, unless he also has the powers of Hell at the snap of a finger,” he replied, and shifted in his chair.

“I guess it’s getting late,” Aziraphale said, and something almost like disappointment flickered across his face.“Since you have to be getting across the Channel tomorrow morning.”

Crowley grunted in agreement.He had lost their coin toss, and as a consequence had to perform a couple of blessings in Dieppe for Aziraphale before going on to his own temptation assignments in Paris.“It’s not like I have to sleep,” he said finally.Not that he was admitting anything, not that he necessarily wanted to spend more time with Aziraphale, but he was rather comfortable in his seat.

Aziraphale smiled tentatively.“Another drink, then?” he asked.“I can show you a wonderful little magic trick I learnt yesterday with colored scarves.”

“I’ll need another drink,” Crowley muttered, getting up from the table to get something for the both of them.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale called after him, and Crowley raised a hand in acknowledgement, glancing over his shoulder for just a moment at the angel.At that moment, a drunken patron of the pub knocked into Crowley on his way out the door, hard enough to knock Crowley’s dark glasses off his face.

“Watch where you’re bloody going!” Crowley snapped, blinking in unpleasant surprise, and looked around on the grimy floor for his glasses.He spotted them beneath a nearby table, and quickly bent to pick them up.He didn’t put them on his face quickly enough, and another patron of the pub caught his arm, a scowl on his face.

“What’s up with your eyes?” the man asked suspiciously, staring at Crowley’s yellow, slitted eyes.

Crowley hesitated.Humans weren’t burning accused witches and demons in the same way that they used to, but it was in his experience better to try not to show off his eyes if he could.“Strange genetics?” he tried, and cringed.The humans likely didn’t know about all of that yet.

The man leaned closer for a better look, several of his burly, drunk friends taking notice, and when Crowley tried to put on his glasses they were smacked out of his hand.“Rude,” he complained and magicked himself another pair.

Immediately, one of the other men stepped forward, an unpleasant expression on his face.“Those weren’t there before,” he said, pointing to the glasses that Crowley quickly slipped on.“Boys, I think we have a devil here.”

Crowley sighed.Just his luck, of course, to manage to pick a fight with Londoners that still believed in real magic.He would need a little miracle to get out of this without getting irritatingly (and embarrassingly) discorporated, if the knife-shaped lumps in the men’s pockets and the ugly expressions on their faces were any indication.

Then, a miracle sidled up to Crowley’s side, and said quickly, “Oh, he’s not a devil or a demon at all, it's just sleight of hand. He’s a magician!”Crowley glared sideways at Aziraphale, who smiled guilelessly at the men.

“A magician,” the first man said again, looking incredibly doubtful.

“Oh, yes, just like Maskelyne, or Devant, or Houdini,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley did _not_ like his tone of voice.“In fact… I'm a magician too, Crowley here is my lovely assistant,” Aziraphale added, his smile becoming just a bit mischievous, and rested a hand on Crowley’s shoulder.“Would you like to see a card trick?”

None of the man answered affirmatively, but Aziraphale bulldozed forward anyway, pulling his half-full packet of playing cards out of his pocket.“Go on, pick one,” he said, thrusting them towards the group of formerly angry, now baffled, men.One of them did, and held it ‘out of sight’ so badly that even Crowley could see the three clubs.

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut and held out a hand as though he were reaching through the ether to find the identity of the man’s card.“Oh, it’s the seven of diamonds!” he exclaimed after a moment.“That’s right, isn’t it?”He opened his eyes, and looked so hopeful that the man just shrugged and nodded.Crowley’s fierce glare probably also helped.

“What about his eyes, though?” one of the others said, jerking his chin in Crowley’s direction.“What’s that got to do with magic?”

“It’s for an act, that’s all,” Aziraphale said dismissively.“Doesn’t matter at all.Let me show you a coin trick!”

Hemanaged to subject the men to four more poorly-performed parlor tricks before they managed to get away, seemingly having forgotten all about Crowley’s unusual eyes in the face of Aziraphale’s clearly-not-magic magic.Aziraphale tugged Crowley back to their table, fussing, “Really, dear, you must be more careful, isn’t that why you wear glasses?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Crowley said.He wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to thank Aziraphale or not, for stepping in.Not that he couldn’t have handled it himself.Of course.Crowley settled on saying, “Angel, I think you’ve convinced those men that there’s no real magic anywhere in the world, with that act.”

Aziraphale gave him a sideways look.

Crowley heaved a dramatic sigh.“Wine, or something stronger?” he asked, avoiding the look.

Aziraphale smiled.“Your choice.Do you need money?”

Crowley hesitated for just a beat, and then gave in to his impulses.He reached behind Aziraphale’s ear, magicking a coin between his fingers before pulling away again.“I’ve got it covered.”

Aziraphale looked absolutely delighted.“So you have been paying attention!” he said.

Crowley cleared his throat, already turning away.“Well, it’s still dreadfully embarrassing,” he said, and ignored the warm swell in his chest at Aziraphale’s smile.

“If you say so, my dear,” the angel replied, his eyes sparkling.

Crowley contrarily vanished all his playing cards before walking away, but couldn’t quite manage to hide his grin at Aziraphale’s laughter behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly pointless, but I had a good time writing it anyway.
> 
> I'm [here](https://asideofourown.tumblr.com/) if that's something you're into


End file.
